


i don't blame you for being you (but you can't blame me for hating it)

by knighthoodie (excelestial)



Series: you and me- we're poetry; painting stories with our lips [Mob!H2OVanoss] [2]
Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Blood and Injury, I hope you didn't think it would be happy, I'd also pay for Jon to wear lingerie, I'd pay for Evan to beat me up tbh, M/M, because if you did, but it is there, but one of those is more likely than the other if only by a very small fraction, how Evan and Jon met, lolripu, mob!au, rape of an underage child is heavily implied but not explicitly depicted or talked about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excelestial/pseuds/knighthoodie
Summary: when you have nothing left- sometimes the only option remaining is to stick your head directly into the mouth of the beast





	i don't blame you for being you (but you can't blame me for hating it)

Evan was lenient. He understood the hardships of life, he could sympathize with those who were indebted to him. Evan was generous. He knew that dark alleyways were not meant to find friendships that last and was happy to supply his distributors with a means to protect themselves while running their deliveries. Evan was respected. He knew the city like it was thriving in each of his pores, nothing happened without him knowing, without his input, and not a soul dare questions his authority. Evan was Herculean. He knew his feats were unmatched- he's heard a rumor floating around that he's single-handedly taken down a trio of rival gang members who ambushed him while at the gym with nothing more than a dumbbell and, well, who is he to deny such a promising story. Evan was unquestionable. He knew that no one dare raise a challenge to his words. Evan was supreme. He knew the crown was metaphorical but he truly ran the city. Evan was not one to be fucked with- so it was easy to understand why he was more than merely pissed in his current situation. 

"You have the fucking audacity to not only abuse my good will," Evan snarls and tightens his grip around the man's throat, causing his eyes to water as he fruitlessly paws at Evan's hands. "But you manipulate and basically enslave your own workers. I don't care if you run a strip club, hell, I don't fucking care if you straight up market as a brothel, but you don't fucking force your workers to your will." 

Evan abruptly releases the plump man, lips curled in distaste as he hears the broken wheezing- he finds momentary complacency in the deep welts beginning to scab over from his nails piercing his skin. There are disgusting things in the world, Evan's seen far too many from his position on top looking down. He's seen gruesome murders for the most mundane of things. He's seen broken ribs, hands, hearts, and families because of drug addiction. He's seen the dirty dealings that go on in shady alleyways after dark. But this? Not in his city. Selling sex is one thing. But he's here for an entirely different problem. Children have no place in the shadows of the world and this slimy monster had the nerve to accept a child as payment for drugs. Evan could let most exchanges go but he could never forgive such a heinous act to go unpunished, not after he's heard of it. Not after he can't even forgive himself for being blind to the situation for so long- for letting the poor kid suffer since Evan himself was barely a teenager.

Winding his arm back, Evan's clenched fist makes a sharp crack as it collides with the folds of Valentino Di Prima's jaw. A howl of pain echoes in the room that the man had made into his office, ricochetting off of velvet couches and a solid redwood desk. If the pictures on the walls were perhaps more tasteful and less like they're made for the centerfold of a Playboy magazine Evan thinks that the room might actually seem quite luxurious and posh. Evan draws his attention back down to the floor, where the man had slid between his legs. Dried blood cakes Valentino's split lip, crusting on his chin and nose. The feeling of blood cooling on his knuckles makes Evan hum thoughtfully, almost amused that the filthy rat had that much blood left in his head considering all the stories Evan's heard flitting around. 

"Still nothing to say, Val?" Evan sneers as he squats over the body lying prone on the thick carpeting. A pathetic whimper is all the response Evan gives. Disappointed, Evan clicks his tongue. "I've heard you boasted about the pretty things you've acquired, talked about them like they were trophies. Well, I'm here now and I want to know all about your new toys but you don't seem to want to talk about them anymore. I must say, Val, I'm offended," the words are soaked in sarcasm like gasoline and although they were the only two in the room, it was abundantly clear that even the smallest flicker of light would send Di Prima's world up in flames. A catty smirk dances on Evan's lips as he pats Valentino's paled cheek with faux gentleness. 

To say Evan was happy would be a stretch, but it gave him some spine-chilling delight to see the man covered in bruises and blood. He had heard tales of what this monster had done to that poor child, of what that child had to go through. Alone. Maybe Evan was trying to redeem himself in the eyes of that child, trying to pry some forgiveness from them for taking so long to help. Evan feels bad for mentally profiling the child as a child when, in fact, they would be roughly the same age as Evan himself now. But that only makes Evan seeth more, gritting his teeth. Maybe this is just Evan trying to convince himself that he's defending the child and that this is Valentino's just desserts. Evan doesn't feel anything except red hot anger lined with the thinnest layer of self-loathing as his fist connects with Valentino's eye. He doesn't even feel victorious as the skin swells, a grotesque mess of bulbous flesh that encapsulates Valentino's eye.  

"I have to commend you, you've got stamina for an old man," Evan snarks, a bountiful chuckle flourishing in his chest. "But I've got all the time in the world. And, if I have my way like I always do, you'll be running out of blood in the hour. So just tell me, Val, because you're not likely going to be leaving this room unless you're in a body bag." Another grunt of pain. "You don't even deserve that, in all honesty. The mess you've made for yourself now is only getting worse because it took this long for the information to get to my ears. I walked in here with the intention of letting you live, but now? Now you've directly defied me and challenged my authority. Did you really think that would end well for you? For nearly fifteen years you had a chance to come clean and let that kid live a nor-" 

"M-Mr. Va-Valen... Oh, I..." A figure peeks out from behind a door connected to the office Evan let himself into. Evan whips his head around to tell off the newcomer but bites his tongue the moment he takes in the thin body before him. Evan could have mistaken the long-limbed beauty in front of him as a female if it were not for the subtle bulge contained behind a pair of woman's underwear. That, and the roughness of his voice as he entered. The moment Evan faces him completely, the man begins to tremble madly as his skin pales. "M-Mister F-F-Fong. I- I must.. I- I'll just... Uh.... I..." It was almost pathetic how frightened this boy is, shuffling awkwardly backward as he attempts to flee. 

"Stop." The word sounded harsher than he intended and Evan's face burns immediately as the boy complies instantaneously, blatantly nervous as he continues to shake, eyes to the floor. Evan steps over the sprawl of Valentino's still legs, not even deeming him worthy of another look as he growls back, "Don't fucking move, you sack of shit." There's a slight waver in the otherwise silence of the room and Evan wouldn't have possibly known its origin if he hadn't watched the boy's throat jump. Evan can see the panic that's worked into the boy as he comes to stand before him, about to reach out to tilt his head up but stills and inquires softly. "May I touch you?" There's a nod but Evan's not satisfied with it as he calmly states, "Words, please."

"Y-Yes." The scratchiness of the boy's voice feels like shattered glass being dragged down Evan's back. Suddenly his chest heaves, panic rising as he hurriedly adds, "Sir. Y-Yes, sir." Evan deadpans as he slowly reaches out, fingers grazing along the bottom of the boy's chin. Immediately the boy's eyes are corkscrewing shut as Evan watches the shaky breath being taken, rippling through the shrunken body like a stone into water. There's an inaudible click as Evan's jaw sets in distaste, spying the marbled bruises that have claimed too cold skin as their home. They wind down the boy's thin body like snakes and Evan hates thinking that that rat Valentino had poisoned this poor boy so cruelly but he's seen far worse in his short time on Earth. Some were fresh, still unfolding as blood settles like a naked promise of recovery; some were telling of how long this had been happening, ghastly patches of sickly bruises that brought to mind a body count- the boy knew what was done and he wasn't being allowed to forget. 

"Your name?" 

Even with all his rage, Evan maintains his composure and does not push any further when they boy's eyes go white, a sense of sorrow washes over Evan at the sight. The boy, quivering, glances fearfully between Evan and the man on the floor, gargled groans beginning to rise from Valentino. Evan is disgusted with how he's able to see the deep inhale the boy takes as if the thin cradle of his ribs are etched into his flesh. He's even more disgusted, though unfortunately not surprised when it's decided Evan is the bigger threat of the two. 

"J-Jonathan, Mi-Mister Fo-Fong," the boy continues to stutter, trying his best to look anywhere but at Evan and finds it to be exceptionally difficult despite the lack of pressure from Evan's fingertips on his jaw- more of a support than anything as Evan remains wary of the kisses left behind by heavy hands. Jon winces but steels himself, _he's probably learned that flinching or denying touch is a punishable offense_ , Evan seethes internally at the thought. He knew that tough love was sometimes needed- but Evan also knew when the line to abuse was crossed. And that line was straight up obliterated if the scene before him was anything to go off of. 

Evan raises an eyebrow, clicking his tongue. "Jonathan...? Your last name?"

"I...I..." Jonathan's eyes begin to brim with tears and Evan's not sure if it's because of being asked personal information or if the boy was truly petrified of him. "I... I'm sorry..." Confusion burns into Evan's face, utterly perplexed by the sudden apology, for no wrong had been committed, at least not by the shaking, whimpering mess of a broken boy before him. "I... I don't... I don't have a last name... was... was never given one, M-Mister Fong." The boy's dark eyes squeeze shut tight and Evan understands the apology now- fear of disappointing him, inciting anger from Evan. Jonathan's experienced a heavy hand for the most insignificant things, so of course not being able to give an answer would cause him to be upset.

And perhaps he was right- Evan was angry, even more so than previously. But it was not at Jonathan. Jaw stiffening, it takes a lot out of Evan to keep from stomping that insidious cockroach's head straight through the wall. Seeing the boy in front of him, scared out of his mind and out of what little clothes he has on his back, makes Evan's hardened heart crack with such empathy. It was like seeing Little Red Riding Hood up close and personal just moments before the knife-like canines of the big, bad wolf come closing down on her neck. It's like seeing pure terror unfold before his very eyes and Evan should've been there to stop that innocent child from ever entering the darkness- but he wasn't. And Evan sees the taint on Jonathan like it's grime, he never saw a single thing the boy had been made to do but his chest hurts more than ever before in his life. Evan then realizes that maybe he's the wolf, making Jonathan shake in his knee socks as he stands over the boy.

"Call me Evan, Jonathan, please," his voice is tender and almost obnoxiously sweet as if talking to a child and Evan feels bad about it but he feels worse about possibly frightening the poor boy more than he already is. "Jon... May I call you Jon?" A curt nod is given in response and Evan is plenty okay with it- the boy's been through enough, Evan can already tell and he's barely scratched the surface. "Jon, do you have somewhere to go? A home? A relative's?" Silence is all that Evan receives and the red hot fury in his gut burns hotter. This poor boy, he is truly alone. "Jonathan," Evan's voice softens greatly as he turns the boy towards the door, careful to keep the pressure of his fingertips on Jonathan's smooth hips featherlight. "I would be honored if you would allow me to take you home with me. Give you a hot meal and a nice bed. Some less... extravagant clothing. I won't try anything, I swear on my life, on my empire. I... I just want to make sure you'll be okay. Will you allow me this, Jon?"

Evan doesn't waste a single moment after Jonathan gives him a jerky, cautious nod and settles his coat atop Jon's slim shoulders, a very obviously displeased frown on his face as the slight weight causes Jon's body to buckle momentarily. Jonathan's breathing quickens for a second but he promptly nods at Evan, more confident this time but still as skittish as a foal, a sign that he's ready to go. It shouldn't have annoyed or surprised the boy had no possessions, at least, none he wished to bring with him. But it pulled at strings in Evan's heart that he thought had died long ago and it played a haunting melody, one that sends shivers up his spine. 

For the first time, Evan looks at Jon- actually, truly looks at him. And he sees so very much. 

His hair is unkempt as if having just awoken from a nap or just a really bad attempt at styling the dark locks like warm toffee. Eyes like ponds- Evan swears he can see every disturbance on the surface but not a damn thing beneath that. There's a tiny scar, barely noticeable because it's either been so long or Valentino actually cared enough to try and fix what he considered merchandise, extending from the corner of Jon's pale lips just an inch or so. He's somehow both unfittingly thin and just bulky enough that no one would bother to ask questions without looking closer. Evan does his best to ignore the attire Jon adorns, a lacy number that Valentino probably spent more on than actual food for the boy but,  _fuck,_ if it doesn't make his heart beat a little fast. Just as Evan's eyes trace the almost grotesquely entrancing jut of Jon's hip bone, his travel halts at the sight of a tattoo, **_VP_ ** inked into Jon's skin like a brand that peeks out from beneath the hem of the scant fabric. Evan decides he doesn't need to keep looking and Jon is all too happy to agree, quickly wrapping Evan's jacket around his body as if to protect himself. It's heartbreaking when Evan spies the fat tear rolling down Jon's flushed cheek, but it's fucking torture to Evan when Jon instinctively pulls back just the slightest bit as Evan went to wipe his face.

"And Valentino?" Evan's face pops back into the darkened office just moments after Jonathan is slowly escorted out of the building with a vicious grin that promised little mercy. A tiny groan is all the answer he gets and once more Evan finds it sufficient. "If you don't have a will drafted already, you best get on that real quick. Because I don't tend to leave business unfinished for long."


End file.
